


The Sun Will Always Shine

by peterslittlebitch



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23676208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterslittlebitch/pseuds/peterslittlebitch
Summary: All of the Monkees notice a minor change in their friendship.... especially Peter and Mike.Good or bad, the change is happening, and no one can seem to stop it.
Relationships: Mike Nesmith/Peter Tork
Kudos: 8





	The Sun Will Always Shine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, and I happen to be terrible at grammar. So please be nice?

The sun beat down on the four boys, as they lay out on the warm sand. The producers decided that the boys needed to take a break from filming, Mike had been especially short tempered, and that does not mix well with a tired, worn out Davy. A fight of some sort was inevitable, and everyone knew it, but no one voiced their thoughts. 

Mike had been fussing over a song in the studio, something about the timing and the tune, and Davy just wanted to finish recording and get out of there (as he had a particularly hot date named Jane later that night). 

Oh his rush to finish work, Davy had said something along the lines of, "Mike and your bloody perfection, it's just a song! It's not like your life depends on it" 

Mike's temper let loose, like a spring that was coiled too tight. He suddenly stopped focusing on the song and turned his scrutinizing gaze to Davy. Micky and Peter stood and watched the whole scenario play out, and let's just say, it was not the highlight of their time spent together. Micky and Peter were bystanders, witnessing all that went down, and not saying a word during any of it.

After Davy's rather insensitive comment, Mike had turned around so rapid, he must've gotten whiplash. The intense silence that followed, with an equally intense staring match, was nearly deafining. No one spoke until Mike broke the silence with a shaky voice 

"You know what Jones? My life does depend on it. These songs are my way of making a fucking living and paying the goddamn bills!  
Not everyone is a pretentious, conceited, momma's boy like you are!" Mike's voice wavered but was edged with anger.

The rather harsh scolding was followed by Mike storming out of the studio, grabbing his beloved hat and jacket on the way out, while still maintaining eye contact with Davy. His departure was rapid and messy, Mike had left his guitar in the studio, presumably on accident. 

Davy didn't say anything, nor did he do anything, he just stood there vacantly staring at Mike's angry expression until Mike left. Although he did jump when Micky gingerly touched his shoulder, he quickly tried to conceal his fright as much as possible, but failed miserably. 

"Seriously, are you even listening?" Micky also sounded a bit tired, his voice was dull and monotonous. 

The bags under Micky's eyes had to have weighed hundreds, and If one cared to look, they could see a brief flash of hate come over Micky's eyes. Both Micky and Mike took great pride in their music, so Davy's comment was an attack on the two.

Davy nodded in response to Micky's probably rhetoric question. 

"What is your deal? Music is Mike's passion man" Micky paused and looked Davy in the eyes, "Not groovy, dude." 

With that, Micky removed his hand from Davy's shoulder and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Davy looked around the studio only to see Micky not upset, just disappointed, and quickly realized that Peter was already gone. 

Davy felt of pure horseshit. He felt like an ass. And to be fair, that comment wasn't the wisest of choices he's ever made. Mike was Davy's friend, not close, but nonetheless a friend. The date was put off of his mind by the current dilemma, Davy was thinking of his apology, but a fraction of himself felt like Mike was also guilty. Nitpicking the lyrics like that? It's a waste of time. Not to mention, it's a total f-you to the producers, who wrote it. Now who's the insensitive one? 

Peter was usually the mellow one of them all, not getting too angry too quickly. But Davy's earlier comment really upset him, in an odd, unsettling way. Mike was always careful about his music, trying his best to make it a song worth listening to. Peter had exited the studio shortly after Mike did, not wanting to get any more upset than he already was. 

For goodness's sake, music was their job! Mike is just doing his job, actually putting forth effort. Mike always was the most responsible of the boys. Peter, upon leaving the studio, saw Mike calmly walking down the sidewalk, kicking small pebbles, as he went his respective way. 

That outburst was the main factor that led to the band getting a day off, a day off spent at the beach. The sun was steadily spreading warmth across the sand, an unlucky fact for those who get sunburned easily. Despite the sun's harsh rays, all of the boys were in there swimming trunks, ecstatic about the cool water. 

Peter and Micky were wearing button-up shirts along with their trunks, unlike the other two Monkees. Mike was wearing short trunks that made him look even taller than he already is. His outfit also revealed an unsurprising amount of hair on his legs and chest, judging by the hair on his arms. Davy's swim shorts were also relatively small and had a floral print. Davy's trunks did nothing to help his height situation, in fact, it made him seem even shorter. 

Mike immediately fell away from the group the second they got to the beach, leaving the other boys to wonder where they should go. Micky decided to go and try to woo some poor, unsuspecting girl who just happens to be enjoying this wonderful day. Micky has more luck with the ladies than most think, it's his curls. He's even had some luck with a few guys after a party in which there was alcohol being readily served to any who asked. 

Davy, similar to Micky (great minds think alike), also went to go talk to some girl who's minding her own business. His date with Jane the night before did not end well. She was looking for someone to go steady with, and Davy doesn't do "steady". He's a lover, and he loves everyone who'll take it. He hasn't said much of anything to the other boys, especially Mike. Davy had stewed in his thoughts and came to realize that Micheal Nesmith isn't as perfect as he thinks he is.

Mike does not think he's perfect. Far from it, actually. Davy's comment had burrowed deeper into Mike's thoughts until it was impossible to ignore. It was a flashy billboard in his mind, one that was simply to bold to pass by. The only thing Mike feels like he loves in the world is music, the sounds coming together to express emotions and thoughts. It's beautiful, a true form of art.

He could not stand another moment being near Davy, so he departed immediately, a lone wolf at it's finest. Davy wasn't a bad guy. Hell, he was a pretty good friend! But what he said hurt, deeply. Mike needed some time to himself to think. In his youth, Mike struggled with poverty, and it remains a constant fear that he won't have enough to provide for who he cares for. In Mike's mind, his life did depend on every song and every episode produced. Without either of those he would be on the streets, using the last of his cash to buy decent clothes for an interview. Mike sat in the shade of an umbrella and observed as Peter walked right by him without noticing Mike. 

Peter, who was left standing by himself when the others departed, felt like going to build a sand castle. A sand castle of love. He set up by the shoreline, a pail and flimsy spade to help him with his task. He especially wanted his castle to have a moat and a small bridge made out of rocks he found at the bottom of the water.

His tools ready, Peter set upon his quest to build the sand castle of love (it's new official name). The best sand to use is the damp sand, and it holds shape a lot better than dry sand, that being said, Peter was frequently shoveling heaps of damp sand into the bright-colored pail.

Somewhere in between the start and the finish of the sand castle of love, Peter had to stretch his legs. They were getting sore from not doing much of anything but sitting. While he was up, he got a quick sip of water and went back to working hard. 

Peter thought of the castle as if he were going to be living in it, with the other Monkees, of course. He loved them, they were always so full of life. There was a wall made of stones at the base of the castle and a fence (also made from stones) where his pretended garden would be. There were several windows, because nature is Peter's best and closest friend. Perhaps one of the only friends he had. Peter wasn't sure if the other Monkees actually liked him or were just being polite. 

Mike watched Peter, quietly working on his sand castle, wondering how Peter makes life look so….simple. Every once in a while, Peter will hum a tune as he works, none that Mike recognized. Maybe Peter has been writing his own hits? Who knows? Mike's eyes were constantly trained on Peter's every move, he watched Peter dig up stones from in the water, he watched Peter shovel the wet sand, he also watched as Peter glanced to the ocean, with a longing gaze. How did he make life look so easy? Mike could not figure out the answer to that question, so he decided to watch Peter work on his masterpiece instead.

Alas, the sand castle of love was finished, structurally sound and pleasing to the eyes. The castle was surprisingly big, almost up to Peter's knees. Peter sat for a second, admiring his handiwork and wondering what it would be like to live in an actual castle. Then he turned his gaze to the water that was lazily coming up to shore then receding. 

The water was so peaceful, it's always peaceful. Just swaying with the breeze and existing, the water was unexplainably calming and beautiful. Oh to be a fish swimming in the blue abyss. 

A sound startled Peter out of his thoughts, more specifically, a cough. His head turned to find Mike roughly three feet away, intently staring at Peter. Just when he was about to say hi, Mike turned his head and walked off. Leaving Peter to wonder if Mike was watching him the whole time. Peter wouldn't mind, maybe Mike just wanted to help with the castle but was too nervous to ask. 

"Peter! It's time to go!" Micky's voice seemed to indicate that he did not woo any ladies today, he sounded like he was ready to go home. 

Peter left the sand castle of love, somewhat sad to leave it to be destroyed by the hands of nature. But all things must pass. Not only did Peter leave his castle, he left with questions regarding his and Mike's strange interaction earlier. But as Peter believes, whatever will be, will be. 

Leaving the beach was akin to leaving a part of his life behind. Peter felt different than usual, he felt more at ease with himself and whatever lies ahead. His old self stays in the castle, forever living a life of luxury.

Then begins the long journey away from the paradise that they call "the beach". The tension was becoming unbearable, Micky seemed to be choking on it, desperate for air. Mike was avoiding eye contact with Davy, making it so everyone knows that he's still quite angry. Micky had thought about trying to hit on some girl but then decided it wasn't worth his time. He'd just get rejected anyways. Instead, he swam. The water was relaxing, a stark difference from the heat that lays upon the land. It was almost addicting, the water, that is. He liked the feel of the cool water against his skin. 

Micky often held his breath under water, enjoying the silence. The water is quiet. The water is deep. The water knows what Micky does not. He was still underwater, contemplating the water's intimate message, he was reminded to get air by the panic that overcame his mind. Arms flailing, he made it to the surface, taking big breaths. It was much noisier outside of the water. Micky did not like it. He enjoyed the void- the lack of noise was calming in a way he had never felt before. Micky swam to the shore, feeling the hot sand against his body. Micky did not feel so good. Maybe it's because he didn't wait 30 minutes after eating to swim. He laid himself on a towel and drifted towards sleep. Sleep was quiet... wasn't it? He sure hoped so.

Micky was harshly woken by Davy's hand on his shoulder, shaking. 

"Wake up Micky, you look as red as a tomato, pal. Or a hotdog… maybe both!" Davy chuckled to himself, walking away now that he knew Micky was awake.

"C'mon Mick! Time to scram" Came Davy's voice, and Davy was still walking away.

Froggy from sleep, Micky gathered his towel and got up to follow his friend. Micky looked down to see that he was sunburned, bad. That's what you get, he thought to himself. Micky hated having to leave, the beach was… eye-opening, in a way. The water was just so mysterious. 

Mike was still staring at Peter's deliberate movement, although Peter was not moving much at the moment. Peter was staring at the water. He looked mesmerized or hypnotized, either or. Peter seemed to sense Mike's eyes and turned. 

Fuck. 

Mike. Was. Screwed. Peter had caught him staring and now Peter was going to ask about it. What was Mike supposed to say!? Sorry Peter I was just admiring your body and intruding on your personal time! Mike could see Peter's mouth opening and closing, looking for something to say but not quite reaching it. 

Then came a voice, Mike thanked whatever holy entity that was listening.

"Peter! It's time to go!" It was Micky, and with really good timing. 

Mike couldn't even imagine what Peter would say, but he knew that it would be awkward. What if Peter knew he was watching him the entire time? Mike had no idea what to believe. 

For a brief moment, Mike glanced at the sand castle then turned his gaze to the water. The water seemed to be speaking, whispering sweet nothings and words of reassurance. Mike listened, he listened to every sound, every noise, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant. The water was reaching out with delicate hands and a fragile heart, helping Mike, who also had a fragile heart. Mike walked towards the water, slowly, and steadily. He made sure to go around Peter's castle and sank his feet into the water. All of the world seemed to come right before his eyes, but left just as quickly as it came. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts and walked back to join the others, feeling a sensation that can be described as pure peace. Mike loved the beach.

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
